Losing no more time, she and Wiggles began to climb the long, dark hill, toward the snow that glistened in the starlight far away at the top. [Illustration] VI _How Bab Rescued the Wooden Cow_ [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER VI _How Bab Rescued the Wooden Cow_ After Bab and Wiggles had reached the top of the hill, and floundered through a space packed with snow, they found themselves in a clump of fir-trees, with the wind whirling about them, and, not far away, the yellow twinkle of a light. Of course Bab intended to go straight on toward the light, but first she paused to take breath. And as she paused, she heard a little voice, quite close to her, exclaim: “Oh, dear! Oh, dear! What do you suppose it is?” “What do I suppose _what_ is?” said Bab, with a start, forgetting to be polite. There was a slight scramble, and a patter of very tiny feet; and then Wiggles began to bark excitedly, with his ears cocked forward, and his bright eyes fixed on the ground. “We—we weren’t talking _to_ you,” explained the wee voice, nervously. “We were talking _about_ you when we said ‘What is it?’” “Oh,” said Bab, rather crossly. “Well, you’re very rude, anyway.” “So are you,” said the small voice, coolly. Bab felt angry and bewildered. “I think,” she returned, “that I might just as well ask what you are!” “Certainly!” said the little voice, more cheerfully. “We are the Mischief Brownies,—servants of the dear Wicked King, of the Red City. And you, I suppose, are an ogre?” “Why, no!” said Bab. “I’m a little girl.” “Nonsense!” said the Mischief Brownie. “We know better! You’re big! You’re enormous! _We_ know you. You’re an ogre!” “Well, anyway,” said Bab, “I’m in a hurry; so good-night!” “Where are you going?” asked the voice, anxiously. “You aren’t a friend of Santa Claus, are you?” “N-no,” said Bab, truthfully, “I never saw him in my life.” “That’s all right, then!” cried the Brownie, gaily. “You can help us in that case!” A number of little lights appeared in the darkness near the ground. They seemed to be tiny lanterns, and by their light Bab could see the bearers of them. They were wee, wee men, not more than a few inches high, dressed in brown, with green caps. Their faces were all stamped with wide grins, and their eyes were not unlike Bizzybuzz’s and the Musical Goblins’. “We’ll teach you six new spells or give you a wishing-cap if you’ll help us,” said the spokesman. Bab’s heart leaped. A wishing-cap! If she had that, she might go at once to the City of the Wicked King, and help Dick rescue Humpty Dumpty for Mother Goose; and then they could all be free! “What do you want me to do?” she asked.